


this americano is cold (and tastes nowhere near my past)

by kokokikikyu (soseji)



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-03
Updated: 2015-03-03
Packaged: 2018-03-16 03:52:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3473384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soseji/pseuds/kokokikikyu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's a chance encounter for the unwilling Oh Sehun and the ever exuberant Lu Han. Both are alone in this Christmas Eve. Both are strangers to each other and when the other is coming home, the other is avoiding what could have been his home. Both are struggling with reality; where one is on the verge of losing and the other is still learning to let go.</p>
            </blockquote>





	this americano is cold (and tastes nowhere near my past)

**_From: Jongin_ **

_Do you think kitchen set would have been the better present for Christmas? You know Kyungsoo hyung likes to bake whenever he's not cutting people's chests open._

 

Sehun typed a  _‘sure, if you were married’_ before shoving his phone back into the warmth of his black coat, all the while tried his hardest not to be affected by the message and KTalk icons in the corner of the display. His reply could have been snarkier, he supposed, but this was Christmas Eve, and Pohang station was cold and empty and he didn’t wear his scarf. It wouldn’t be fair for Jongin to receive nasty remarks from him just because he was feeling bitter.

He had been told many, many times before about how childish he sometimes acted, how vengeful and cruelly cold he could be, “ _but this has got to be the level that even_ I _would have never guessed you could reach,”_  he remembered Jongin saying.

And really, it took everything in him to get rid of his ridiculous pride, at last, and admitted that he had gone too far this time, and finally dragged his butt back to Seoul. Sehun didn’t know what was waiting for him there or what he was expecting. But he figured he could worry about that when the time came, which was about four hours from now.

The train was empty, more or less. There were only three, four tops people in the car and they were sitting far from each other. Some was sleeping; some other was fumbling with their phones. Sehun found himself thinking if they were like him, too; alone in Christmas Eve and had no one to celebrate the festivity.

Cold and alone. Sounded perfectly pathetic.

Sehun sat in his designated seat and crossed his arms in front of his chest before closing his eyes. He could only hope there would be someone to wake him up once the train reached Daegu.

 

* * *

 

Turned out, he hadn't needed to. He was awoken by himself just a minute before the train had stopped, which annoyed him because he needed the rest, goddamnit. Even the lost minute was crucial for his mental and physical readiness before he’s back in Seoul.

Did he really want to be back? Maybe he did, maybe he didn’t. If he was him though, he wouldn’t want to see his own face, however stunning and gorgeous it was. Fifteen minutes before the KTX to Seoul departed and Sehun still had this small hesitation but bugging, nonetheless, about whether he should board the train.

“It’s chilly, you know. The weather.”

Sehun glanced at his left side and came face to face with a man (boy?) shorter than him with black hair. There was a stud on his left ear, giving him some weird contrast because it didn’t really fit his overall youthful image.

And the pierced ear sent him a weird feeling in his stomach and his chest.

Twinkling doe eyes staring back at him, expecting a reply.

“I’m wearing a coat, so I kind of noticed?” Sehun lifted his eyebrow.

“You’re drinking a Green Tea frappe, man. Who drinks that in a cold night?  _This_ , would be the perfect choice.”

Sehun narrowed his eyes at the word ‘Americano’ scribbled in his grande-sized paper cup. He also caught the word ‘nie’ somewhere.

“I don’t drink coffee.” Sehun said curtly.  _And caffeine is the last thing I need tonight_.

The stranger stared down at his own cup and Sehun watched in slight curiosity as myriad of emotions flickered behind those eyes. No one should look at a bland sight of a cup of coffee like that, Sehun thought.

“Coffee is good, y’ know,” he muttered with fondness evident in his face, as well as sorrow.

Sehun coughed lowly. “Well, I don’t like them.”

“Where are you heading, by the way? Seoul?”

Sehun nodded.

“Me, too!” Sehun pulled away a little as the stranger suddenly squealed like an overexcited teenager. “It’s so good to know that I’m not the only one being pathetic on a Christmas Eve!”

The corner of Sehun’s right eye twitched in dismay.

“Come on, stranger! The train is going to leave soon.” The baby-faced man pulled at Sehun’s sleeve. “Chop chop!”

 

* * *

 

Travelling alone had this distinct feeling for some people. It gave you some sort of freedom, a breather. It provided invisible bubble that along with it brought the travelers a time and space for themselves in a strange way. Alone among the crowd was another way of therapy, Sehun liked to think.

It was rather painful, the realization that dawned upon Sehun, that if it wasn’t for the circumstances they were under Zitao would have made it a big deal about him travelling alone.

Sehun was a bizarre yet perfect mixture of self-restraint and apathy and only a few people would know which was what and in the last week he had proved himself to be excelled in the former. Never once had he asked Jongin about anything remotely Zitao. Every ‘is he okay’ would be stomped on to death only to be voiced as ‘I heard Monggu was lost’ and for every unspoken ‘does he miss me’ there was an eloquent ‘the weather here sucks’ coming out of his mouth.

“The grandpa three rows behind us asked me if we were brothers.”

Sehun sighed aloud. He had almost forgotten he had a sudden, uninvited companion in this supposedly reflective-slash-meditative journey. He hadn’t even made up his mind when the pretty boy practically dragged him to buy the tickets for two to Seoul.

“I hope you didn’t forget to tell him that we aren’t even friends.”

The Americano stranger pouted, like, unabashedly pouted. Maybe Sehun  _was_ travelling with a high schooler after all because what kind of respectable adult do that? Okay, so Zitao did but it was  _Zitao_ , so it was allowed.

“You’re so cold, you know. Everything about you is. Your attitude, your facial expression, even your choice of beverage is. This is Christmas Eve, okay? Be warm even though the weather is not.”

No. This was not what Sehun wanted. He didn’t ask for an energetic teenager sitting next to him in this nearly vacant car, much less the critiquing one.

“Aren’t you tired?” Sehun rubbed his eyelids, exasperated. “Because I am.”

Instead of feeling guilty, this seemed like piqued his interest more and Sehun cursed himself for it.

“Why? What have you been doing? You don’t look like someone who has been enslaving his life away during holiday season. I mean, did you see your luggage? They aren’t even under a ‘luggage’ category.”

Sehun bit his lower lip and gazed at the infinite black outside the window train _. Luggage is not always physical._

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

Sehun blinked. “I said that out loud, didn’t I?”

It was rhetorical and they both knew it, but the coffee drinker still nodded yes. “I was right, after all. There was this burden practically hung low above your head when I saw you telling the barista your order. That, and your eyes look so sad.”

“You can read it all even when my facial expression is ‘cold’?” It was more like a mocking on Sehun’s part, really.

“I know sadness when I see one,” he shrugged his shoulders weakly, eyes downcast. “Especially when I look at it every day in the mirror.”

Sehun didn't reply. Instead, he focused back on the darkness outside the train.

“Hey, what’s your name, by the way?” the Americano guy’s face was suddenly so close to Sehun’s and he freaked out.

“Oh Sehun,” he stuttered and backed off.

And as the stranger squatted closer to him, Sehun pulled away even further until the cold window hit his cheek bone.

His reaction obviously irked the doe-eyed, irritating man (boy? He must be a boy!).

“Do I smell so bad?” he demanded.

“Just creepy.”

“I definitely am not.”

Sehun deadpanned. “I’m not the first person calling you creepy, am I?”

It was almost unreal, the way the light in those eyes dimmed instantly, replaced by the same look of sadness Sehun witnessed earlier at the coffee shop. The change was staggering it was enough to make Sehun apologies but not for calling him a creep, which was strange.

"No, you arent't. He used to call me that, too."

“I’m sorry.” Sehun mumbled. Though for what exactly, he wasn’t so sure himself.

The coffee drinker shook his head, all the while plastering a smile on his face— a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “No, it’s fine. I’m not offended.”

Maybe it was because of how the slightest smile would light up his entire face reminded him of some pediatrician or maybe because it was Christmas Eve so he allowed himself to be out of character, or maybe it was because of what Kyungsoo hyung had told him; some nonsense about how everybody was struggling and lending a shoulder was sometimes necessary.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Sehun found himself offering.

“About me being ‘creepy’?” he laughed hollowly. “I don’t think so.”

“No. About whatever it is bugging you. Or makes you, I don’t know, sad? Miserable is the best word for it, methinks.”

Sehun watched the stranger rubbed his thumb against the cup ever so softly, like he was holding the rarest, most beautiful jewel in the entire world. And then he spun it gently, revealing the rest of his name. It was Luhannie.

“This was what he used to call me and I’m not even Korean.”

Sehun’s brow rose in surprise because nothing about this ‘Luhannie’ screamed ‘foreigner’ to him. There was no trace of accent in the way he spoke. Not even in the way he looked.

“You aren’t?”

“I’m Chinese.”

And there went a gust of air from the inside of his chest.

“When the barista asked for my name back there at the coffee shop, I specifically requested that my order was put under a ‘Luhannie’ just so I could feel like it was him again, brewing a cup of coffee for me.” His hands trembled. “Shows just how desperate I am, does it not?”

Lu Han’s head was down, made it impossible for Sehun to know if he was crying.

“I, uh, I didn’t know. I’m sorry.” Sehun offered weakly. “Looks like he was a very important person to you.”

“He still is.” Lu Han corrected. “Though I’m pretty sure he couldn’t say the same about me, not anymore.”

Sehun recalled what Zitao had told him based on his extensive knowledge about tv drama that the most heart-wrenching or maybe bittersweet parting is between two childhood friends who were in love with each other. So he stupidly asked Lu Han that.

“No, we aren’t.” Lu Han stared at him amusedly. “We were college friends, except we studied in different colleges and met during Yon Ko Jeon. It was funny, actually, because we were from different side and supposed to ‘dislike’ each other. So I did just that and only because it was the normal thing to do.”

Sehun had no time to be awed at the fact that Lu Han graduated from either Yonsei or Korea Uni; he was more enthralled by the fact that they might as well be Romeo and Juliet.

“But then after the football match, which we won by the way, he came to me and said that I was a good player, and how my team deserved the win. He asked if he could treat me a cup of coffee.”

Sehun noticed how Lu Han’s fingers grazed the cup ever so softly.

“I didn’t even like coffee, you know, and I told him that. In a rather sucky attitude, I may add. But he said that he’d brew the coffee himself so I shouldn’t be worried. All that I was thinking at that time was this boy is stupid. It doesn’t matter who brew the coffee, it still  _is_  coffee and I hate it.”

Not realizing that a soft smile was slowly forming on his face, Sehun finished it for Lu Han. “But you said yes.”

Lu Han chuckled and lifted his gaze to meet Sehun’s. “But I said yes.”

As it turned out, the Coffee Brewer was one of the owners of the coffee shop Lu Han was invited to. The coffee shop itself was originally a project for Coffee Brewer’s Business Planning class and located in a not-so-glamour part of Seoul because they had to consider everything and that included the space rent.

“He was, and I know still is, very passionate about coffee that after the class was over, he had decided to keep going, even when none of his friends supported him.”

“You knew this? So there was a second date?”

Lu Han’s laugh was like a bell, in a quality that was so much like Zitao’s Sehun’s heart ached and then he told Sehun that, no, there was no second date. The fact that he did brew his coffee himself didn’t necessarily convert him. So, after thirty minutes of stupid, completely unfounded distaste on Lu Han’s part and unfruitful kindness on Coffee Brewer’s part, he had bid him his goodbye and told himself that he shouldn’t be too sorry for being a jerk for he wouldn’t see the angel-turned-café owner again, ever.

“Except I was wrong because three months later, I found myself standing in front of his coffee shop.”

“Why?”

Lu Han took his time to answer.

“Do you believe in fate? Because before that day, I have never did. I just had a ramyeon with my friends in the neighboring district that night and apparently being a Seoul resident for nearly three years doesn’t make you well-versed in finding your way through the city so I was lost and somehow ended up in a street where his café located.”

But the sight that greeted Lu Han was not what he had expected. The café wasn’t what he remembered it used to be, months ago. There was no swing jazz played softly, no low but comforting lighting, no customers. All he saw was the Coffee Brewer himself, sitting in front of his now closed coffee shop.

It turned out that Coffee Brewer didn’t have the resources needed to keep the café alive, didn’t have anyone to support him and tell him that finding your life call this early is okay and that he’s allowed to embrace it; that it’s not just on a whim.

“I don’t know, Sehun. Maybe it was the way he told me everything; with wide smiles, crinkling eyes, and quivering voice. I just… grabbed his hand and convinced hi— no, more like shouted at him that he can’t give up, not so soon.”

Lu Han didn’t continue his story after that. Not that he needed to because Sehun knew. He knew that Time was weird like that, that it possessed this knack of bringing two souls together for the second time with absolutely different set of situation and feeling and a connection, just like it had the ability to separate them.

And that also the reason why Sehun didn’t bother asking about Coffee Brewer’s whereabouts now; why Lu Han was alone, buying coffee that wasn’t made personally for him with a name written by the hand of a stranger that had no knowledge of how meaningful the name to him was.

It must hurt, that you got no control of things so you had no other choice other than to resort to the poor substitution, the closest thing to the life you had once lived— even if it was really, the furthest thing.

Sehun wondered if he could be like that.

“I hope you’ll be happy, one of these days.” Sehun finally said, unconsciously dropped the jondaemal.

But Lu Han laughed. More like barked, and it was filled with anguish and self-loathing. It was so pitiful that Sehun’s heart hurt a little for him.

“No, don’t. Don’t wish me that. I don’t deserve it.”

“You do, though.”

Lu Han shook his head. “No, I don’t.”

And when Lu Han finally, finally turned to face him, his face was just as ethereal but there were tears pooling in the corner of his eyes waiting to cascade down. Lips stretched to form a smile that conveyed so many regrets, so many sorry’s that he couldn’t afford to say them to whom he desperately wanted.

“Because it’s my fault that I ended up like this. Because it’s my fault that I was that coward who turned his back and left when he thought he couldn’t take the heat anymore and gave up on everything he had once held so dear.” Lu Han sniffed softly. “I was a quitter then and I am still a quitter, now.”

What he was witnessing was so devastating and Sehun realised, he didn’t want to be like him. He didn’t want to  _be_  him.

“What do you mean you’re a quitter? You’re heading to Seoul, now, aren’t you? You’re not running away.”

“He got married today, Sehun.”

Words had failed him. Sehun blinked, uselessly trying to say something— anything.

“I came back to Seoul because I was invited. I determined to attend but I just couldn’t. So Daegu, it was.” Lu Han finished forlornly. “I’m flying back to Beijing tomorrow morning.”

Sehun took a deep breath because it suddenly felt like his heart weighed too much. He was looking at a broken man who was clinging to a measly paper cup of coffee like it was his final life line. Like it was the only thing connecting him to a memory of someone he had left behind but never stopped loving.

“Have you found your own Coffee Brewer, Sehun?”

Yes. Yes, he had. A 185 cm of warm touch and gentle smile, of soft kisses at night and tight hold on his hand.

His whole word.

“I think I’m losing him.” Sehun whispered. Eyes hot and the base of his nose stung. He refused to blink for he was scared that once a tear had fallen, he wouldn’t be able to stop the next.

Then Sehun felt Lu Han’s hand covered his. He looked up.

“Don’t let that happen.” Lu Han told him softly. “This hand, Sehun… Don’t let it face up and open. Don’t let go. You don’t want to be like me.”

His throat was constricted and suddenly Sehun found it hard to breathe. “Thing is, I think I grip too tight that he’s in pain and now he’s slowly slipping out of my hand.” And there it was; his tear, dropped on Lu Han’s knuckle. “And in my last act of insecurity, I punished him. I pushed him away without realising that maybe, being away from me was exactly what he wanted.”

And it was in front of this stranger that Sehun felt his barricade unraveled. A carefully hidden struggle he had been doing, a burden he had been carrying and wasn’t able to leave it at Pohang… He laid it bare.

“I love him and I’m scared. I may not the best thing he deserves but I just can’t bear to imagine a life without him.”

“You know, Sehun? If there is something I have finally learnt from all of this, is that here,” Lu Han brought his idle hand and put in lightly on Sehun’s chest, “is where all the answers you need. You  _do_  know whether he really loves you and therefore you’ll know he wouldn’t let anything mortal set you guys apart. Just—never run away, Sehun.”

 

* * *

 

Sehun stopped on his step to turn around.

They had parted with only a ‘will you be okay’ from him in which Lu Han had returned with a poignant ‘I will, eventually’. The Chinese man told him this would be the last time he walked on South Korea soil and Sehun understood. This place stored too many things he wanted and didn’t want to remember and it would be cruel for Fate to demand him to stay.

And Sehun had decided to be strong.

He hadn’t even reached the exit when he saw him; clad in a thick, black leather jacket and black beanie. Feet scrapped on the floor carelessly, restlessly. Sensing someone watching, the figure lifted his head and his gaze zeroed on him.

“Hunnie!”

As Zitao barreled towards Sehun and almost crushing him in his arms, Sehun forced down the tears because he never realised how much he missed the pet name.

“Hey,” he replied with a voice just above a whisper. He lifted his own arms and put them around his boyfriend’s waist.

He heard Zitao sobbed and despite his unwillingness to part with the warmth he had missed, Sehun tried to detach himself. They needed to talk. He needed to tell Zitao his decision.

Zitao’s eyes were red and puffy when Sehun finally took a good look at his face. The bags under his eyes seemed thicker than they normally were and Sehun could feel, under layers of jackets and sweater, Huang Zitao had actually gotten skinnier. 

“I don’t know where Pohang is but I initially wanted to go there and bring you back but Jongin told me you didn’t want to see me,” Zitao choked. “So I waited at home but I missed you, Hun. I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. If you don’t want me—“

“No, Zitao.” Sehun cupped his boyfriend’s cheek. “If you want to go, just go.”

Zitao’s eyes widened and face paled. Sehun noticed his eyes became glassy and he looked impossibly frightened and it hit him.

“No, wait— it’s not like that.” Sehun sighed. “Listen, Zitao. I’m sorry I was being a jerk to you. Truth is, I… I was afraid. I was afraid that I would be those cases of ‘out of sight, out of mind’ but I’m not anymore. I love you, and I know, even though I’m an asshole to you, you love me, too. So, Zitao, if you want to leave the country for a year to volunteer, you can go.”

“Hun…”

Sehun smiled. “I’ll be here when you get back. Just, don’t look at other people too long, yeah?”

Zitao smiled back at him, eyes teary and Sehun, too, felt like crying.

“No, I won’t. I only have eyes for you, Hunnie. You know that.”

“I do,” Sehun nodded. He grabbed Zitao’s bare hand and gripped it. “This hand I’m holding… I won’t ever let go. Is that okay with you?”

He didn’t get a reply. Instead, Zitao cupped both his cheeks and pulled it towards him.

“Yes,” he said between his frantic kisses. “Yes, that’s okay with me.”

 

* * *

 

“Where did you stay during your self-exile to Pohang?”

Sehun craned his neck back, kissing Zitao’s jaw. His boyfriend’s chest felt so warm against his back and with arms locked securely around his waist, Sehun felt contented. Like nothing could possibly go wrong and the world outside couldn’t touch him, harm him.

“Jongdae hyung’s house,” Sehun murmured. Zitao ducked his head and kissed his lips softly.

“He needs to find a wife, ASAP.”

“So I’ve advised him to but he told me to shut up.”

Zitao giggled and bit Sehun’s lobe. The hot chocolate in a mug he was holding was no longer hot and the tv was airing a Secret Garden re-run that Sehun didn’t bother to pay attention to, but neither of them budged.

“How was your day?” Sehun instead asked.

“Kinda dramatic.”

Sehun snorted.

“Drama happens all the time in hospitals.”

“No, Hunhun. This one was different. There was this grandpa and apparently he had a heart attack and we had Kyungsoo handle him. We were planning to grab a lunch so I waited for him outside the ER room. There were a group, too, and I overheard—“

Sehun coughed.

“Okay, eavesdropped. They said it was because his only grandson had left his bride at the altar and subsequently called off the wedding. So, yeah. The heart attack then happened. Turned out, the grandson was also there but he was standing a bit far from the commotion, which is understandable.”

Sehun furrowed his brow and something nagged at the back of his mind.

“Then you eavesdropped some more?”

Zitao whined. “No! I took a pity on the grandson so I offered him coffee.”

“The coffee in your hospital’s cafeteria sucks balls, though.”

“It wasn’t like I had other options, you jerk.” Zitao bit his neck playfully for a good measure. “It wasn’t his intention to bring shame to his family, he said. But he couldn’t marry another woman when his heart isn’t even his anymore to give. Poor him. But at least he told me he was going to fight and find a way back to his happiness. I don’t know… something about not making the second mistake. Do you think he will be happy?”

It was so Zitao, worrying about people he didn’t even know. Sehun patted his boyfriend’s hand that was inside his shirt and smiled. He wasn’t sure why that is, but he could feel his words full of confidence when he said,

“He will be,” Sehun cuddled closer. “As long as he reaches the airport on time.”

 

 


End file.
